Never Tell
by Hazel Maraa
Summary: Oneshot HG, slight RHr. Not really fluffy, more angsty than anything. Set after Harry goes Horcrux Hunting. Four POVs Ginny, Harry, Hermione, Ron. R


A/N – Hey all. Short, nice oneshot. Ron's POV at the end was a little weird and not so much his POV as just… there. Set after Harry sets out for Horcrux Hunting.

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She'd never tell him that every night her bed covers remained unruffled and unused. She'd never tell him that even though she had no dark rings under her eyes, she hadn't slept in a long time. She'd just lay on top of the flowered bedspread and stare at the ceiling until the scent of breakfast wafted through her doorway.

She'd never mention that it killed her a little more each day to see that there was no letter from him. She'd put on her brightest smile and fool everyone… except him. But he wasn't here.

She'd decided, absently, that there would be no talk of the way she _just didn't care anymore._ And she would take care not to slip about how she didn't eat much, and how she didn't talk or smile while he'd been gone.

Ginny Weasley wouldn't start living again – she refused to – without Harry right next to her, living his life with her, because he _just couldn't imagine life without her.

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_

He wouldn't tell her that he wanted to end it all, almost constantly, every day he was gone. He wouldn't tell her that there were times where nothing mattered except killing Voldemort and destroying his Horcruxes.

He wouldn't say that she didn't matter to him – because she did! – and that she should move on, because he knew what she'd say to that. He knew her too well.

He'd never told her that he loved her, because he didn't know how. He didn't have any family that shared his flesh and blood, though he had people who loved him.

Ron and Hermione were his family, even though Ron had come close to telling Hermione how he felt, and her him. So that they could become their own family, making him the third wheel, uncomfortable and out of place, no matter what he said. _It never happened._

Maybe he should've been nicer, and assured her that they _wouldn't_ just vanish into the night without warning… and mean it. Maybe he should've let her come with him… but every time that thought pops up, he immediately shoots it down again, thinking that if she died, it would be _his_ fault, no matter how her heart came to stop beating. He couldn't let that happen, and if he had to sacrifice both their happiness in order to do so, so be it.

Harry Potter was, by no means, a selfish person. However, sometimes, he just _can't let go.

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_

The girl shook her bushy brown hair out of her eyes. Harry, Ron, she would whisper in the quiet of her cold room. Tears would appear in her brown eyes, but she'd refuse to let them fall. It was as if, to her, that if her tears finally fell, the last bit of the trio's hope would be gone.

Hermione Granger was not gullible in the slightest. She was strong willed, passionate, and if she had to be, loud and argumental. Ron would, if they'd been back at Gryffindor Tower and she'd spoken aloud to her two friends, comment with an eye roll to Harry something about "argue" and "mental" being the best way to describe her.

But, she reminded herself furiously; they weren't back in Gryffindor Tower. The three of them didn't just sit and talk about nothing anymore… though most people would say that it's understandable, that it's 'okay'… when in reality, it's horrible, and not at all agreeable. They were _best friends_. They should have found another suitable topic by now. Just because there was a war, didn't mean that they hadn't been friends long before.

Harry, Ron, she whispered into the dark, quiet room. When will they _act like the friends they'd been_ again?

* * *

Ron Weasley stood silently, his head bowed in prayer. He was dressed in long black robes, and flaming red hair. His eyes were sorrowful as he, Hermione and Harry all looked at each other.

"Are you read?" Harry asked, meaning something else entirely. Ron and Hermione nodded without hesitation. Harry took a deep breath, and nodded to show his understanding. He hadn't meant, "Are you prepared?" rather, "Are you sure you know what you're getting yourself into, and are you _really_ sure you want to continue?" Both Ron and Hermione, however, knew this.

Ron shook his head to clear his thoughts. Harry was always so quiet lately, and Hermione oozing enthusiasm. He knew it was all a show, her optimism, but he also knew that without it they'd all be the quiet hero, the bittersweet red head, and the book-crazy Muggleborn. They'd have no motivation, and think they were living on borrowed time. The fact that they all thought that anyway was completely beside the point.

Hermione was walking, no… if declaring was a way to walk, then Hermione was definitely doing it. Her steps were almost casual, but at the same time, short and angry. She wasn't really marching… but Harry was – by all appearances – completely calm. His face betrayed nothing but relaxation and _his_ footsteps were definitely casual, no doubt about it. Ron's pace was either long, vengeful strides, or impatient short steps.

Ron was the first to arrive at their destination. He gave a deep, meaning glace at his two friends and knocked on the door.

Ginny may never tell Harry about her sleeping and eating patterns, but let it never be said that she never told him her feeling for him. That she truly and madly loved him (like a husband, not a brother), but was insanely furious at him for leaving her.

So when sixteen year old Ginny Weasley opened the door to the Burrow, on a cold August day, she never expected to see her best friend, brother and boy friend standing there, all looking like they'd bolt the second they thought they smelled danger.

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A/N – Tell me what you think! Please review.

Hazel


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